


Bake the ice

by serenitysolstice



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, every fandom needs one, that great british bake off au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-14 13:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysolstice/pseuds/serenitysolstice
Summary: The Great British Bake Off fic. Written for ThasminThot on Twitter.





	1. Bready or not

Bread week. Yaz had been looking forward to bread week since her first challenge - she loved bread. She just...got it. It was like the chemistry of baking - do this, and that, and this will happen. After barely scraping by in the cake week, followed by an average week (Though she had spectacularly failed the technical), she felt the universe owed her a chance to prove that she did, actually, belong here. 

 

If only she didn’t keep getting distracted. 

 

Yasmin Khan wasn’t a fool - she’d seen the show for several of the past seasons. She knew what it was like. All of the other competitors were fighting the difficulties inherent to baking as much as each other; it was so easy to make friends when no one was out to get you. A young lad called Ryan, from London, made her laugh like few others. He was here, so she’d learned, because his nan had taught him to bake after his mum passed away. Now he wanted to make her proud. She could get behind that. Her own Nani was the reason she’d even had the inclination to apply, and boy she was glad she did. The experience was like nothing she’d ever done before. 

 

There was just one problem.

 

She heard a boisterous laugh from behind her, and shook her head quickly to clear it. She had to focus. Bread was what she knew, bread was her favourite. Her breakfast sourdough rolls were already in for their rise, and she had little else to do now but wait. Wait, and perhaps have a quick chat with the woman baking behind her, who was also just leaned against her counter. 

 

“Bored, are we, Doctor?” Yaz grinned, with one eyebrow raised. The woman groaned, letting her head drop forwards.

“You have no idea, Yaz. I hate bread, so much waiting around, it’s like baking for mums.” She couldn’t hold back her laugh, rolling her eyes. 

“Oi! Some of us love bread!”

“Oh yeah, how could I forget? The Yasmin Khan,  _ bready  _ to  _ rise  _ to any challenge.” The Doctor winked at her, and Yaz felt her face flush. 

“You’re such a dork!” She gave the woman a swat on her arm.  “One of us has to keep a  _ leaven  _ head, at least.”

“ _ Naan  _ of that now!” The Doctor scolded, leaning forwards against the table. “You must have known this was  _ scone-a _ be a lot of fun when you met me.” Yaz gasped, hand on her heart.

“Doctor! First of all, that last one was far too weak, you need to step up your game. But second, and more important, I should have known you were of the ‘scone’ variety.” The Doctor’s eyes widened. 

“Are you not? Do you say ‘scone’?” 

“‘Course I do! That’s how you say it!” Their bickering came to a close when a cough came from behind them, and the two women seperated, grinning sheepishly. 

“Ladies, we’ve been over this. We do not say the ‘s-word in this tent.” Sue scolded, smiling. The Doctor looked at Yaz, and muttered to her conspiratorially. 

“Well, looks like someone got out of the wrong side of the  _ bread _ .” And Yaz completely broke down in fits of the giggles. 

 

That was the problem. Jo Smith. Or Joe Smith. Yaz had no idea how to spell her actual name, since she rarely used it. The name she used, pretty much exclusively as far as she could tell, was The Doctor. She was eccentric, bizarre, and so so funny. Not only that, but she was extraordinarily clumsy, and yet easily one of the best bakers here. She was maybe five years older than Yaz, and so exceptional in every way that of course Yaz was crushing on her. She hoped it wasn’t as obvious during the release of the episodes as it felt to her working in the tent. She was getting teased about it  _ constantly _ , though The Doctor didn’t seem to notice. 

 

“Hey, Yaz.” Ryan came to sit by her during one of their breaks. She was on her own, not through any particular reason, but just because she felt like being in that moment. “What you doing over here?”

“Oh, nothing. Just taking a breather, you know what it’s like.” 

“Yeah.” They sat in silence for a moment. “Just, y’know, I thought you’d be sat with The Doctor.” He grinned at her blush.    
“I- I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She muttered, eyes on the ground. 

“Yeah. You do.” Ryan replied, knocking her shoulder with his. “I won’t say anything though, least of all here.” He looked around the picnic benches, keeping his voice low. “Shows like this one are much more casual than most, but if they get a hint of drama, they will feed off it.” Yaz nodded.

“I know. Don’t worry about me, this is bigger than a crush on the Doctor.”    
“What?” Ryan exclaimed, bolting upright. “You have a crush on the Doctor? I just thought, like, you guys were getting really close friends or something-” Seeing Yaz’s horror stricken face, he laughed. “And I’m just messing with you. Come on, gotta get back inside.” He grabbed her arm, and hauled her back towards the tent. 

 

And then there’s the singing. 

 

Every single chance she gets, that woman will mutter, hum or sing one song or another. Yaz would love to have said it drove her crazy, but honestly it was just a throwback to when she was baking for her colleagues at work, and dancing around the kitchen to spotify. Especially when she recognized some of the lyrics. 

 

For example, her tune of choice during their technical (baguettes this week, thank god for their international day at work a few months ago!) was Friday I’m in Love, but a softer, more melodic than the original, and Yaz fought to contain her grin when the cameras came round to check up on her and caught her in the background. 

“Sorry!” She said to Yaz once they’d moved on. “I just lost track of what was going on. Easy to lose myself in the music, you know?” Yaz nodded, smiling warming.

“Yeah, I do. I love music while I bake too. I didn’t recognise the cover though?”    
“Oh, yeah, it’s one of my favourites. Something about the softer music, I don’t know what it is, but I really feel it.” Yaz wished she had that laissez-faire attitude. Did the Doctor just not care, or was she unaware that she even should? 

“I like it.” She said, before she could stop herself. “The...the singing, I mean. Brightens up what would probably feel pretty awkward.” Despite her attempted explanation, the Doctor beamed. 

“Aww, thanks!” She exclaimed. “Music - food for the soul.” 

She didn’t stop singing after that, for which Yaz was thankful for. It really did make the tent seem more cheerful, somehow. And, when she was singing, the Doctor wasn’t distracting Yaz in some way or another. And, as it turns out, when she could focus, and when confronted with something she loved with her whole heart, she did pretty well. 

 

Winning star baker came second that week, however, to the Doctor’s face split open in a grin at the announcement, and she was the first one to offer her congratulations. 


	2. Desserted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's dessert week! It turns out that Yaz hates meringue, but loves hearing the Doctor swear.

Week four. Desserts. She’d surprised herself upon the announcement - expecting to have a mild freakout similar to both cakes and biscuits of her first two weeks, she was actually excited. Crème brûlées! Not quite her favourite, but she’d brought some into the station for one christmas party, hoping to impress one of the receptionists. She smiled, leaning back against her mum’s kitchen counter, and knew in that moment what she’d be making. Now, to decide on her cheesecakes…

“Coconut matcha crème brûlées.” She replied excitedly, putting down the matcha powder she’d been measuring out. “My Nani used to make them all the time, when she found out how much my dad - her son-in-law - loved green tea. It was her way of welcoming him to the family.” She smiled at the memory. “I’ve made them so many times, sometimes I dream about it.”

“Do they often go down well?” Paul asked, an eyebrow raised. Yaz frowned.

“Mostly, yeah. Not so loved by kids but, well, its green tea. What can you expect.”    
“Well.” Mary said, clapping her hands together. “I look forward to such an interesting combination.” She nodded her thanks, and got back to work, though their coded language wasn’t lost on her. She prayed they’d all turn out okay; the last thing she wanted to do was prove Paul Hollywood right. 

“Psst.” Came a whisper behind her. Despite herself, Yaz grinned. She wasn’t sure how she ended up next to the Doctor every week, but she thanked the heavens for it. She turned around.

“Bit early to be distracting me, isn’t it? We’ve only been here a half hour.” She winked, to take some of the bite out of her words.    
“Nah, you’ll do brilliantly as usual.” The Doctor beamed at her. “I just wanted to say, that those crème brûlées sound absolutely fantastic, and was wondering if - after all this is over of course, if I could get the recipe for them?” She was floored by the question. It was the first genuine interest anyone had paid in how she made what she did in at least several years, since her training course in the academy at least.    
“Of course you can!” She replied. “But, the matcha powder can make the custard kind of...sandy, if you’re not careful.” She didn’t let herself think too long about her next sentence, knowing in the moment that it was the right call. “How about you come over to my place sometime, and I’ll teach you.” The Doctor’s face scrunched into a grin, and her eyes shone.

“Cooking with Yaz? Amazing! We’ll sort something after this then, yeah?” Yaz nodded and, fighting a blush, she returned to her worktop, throwing herself into the rest of the challenge with a smile on her face. 

 

God, she hated meringue. In all its forms. It was just pretentious sugar, masquerading as a fancy dessert. She hated it, and she hated this stupid challenge. She was going to fail, and she was going to leave the tent, and it would all be the fault of this over the top fancy ass pillar of sweet egg. The first disk went reasonably well - it would make a solid foundation, and it wouldn’t be seen anyway, so the slight browning didn’t matter too much. But the sides of the spanische windtorte were indisputably brown, and definitely crumbling. The violets weren’t much more than smears of purple icing. She was proud of the piping decorations, but it was little comfort. This was a total and utter disaster. This would be her last show. 

It didn’t help that, throughout the entirety of the technical, she could hear the Doctor muttering curse words whenever she thought the cameras were far away enough from her. She didn’t always get it right, but Yaz figured the crew were used to it at six series into the show. Despite the shaking of her hands, the tears that threatened to burn her eyes, and her pulse thumping loudly in her temples, just hearing her casual frustration, like she was still baking at home and learning the recipe, had her breathing slowing, and a small smile toying with her lips. This only added to her confusion - it was so easy to get caught up in what it meant that just being around this woman helped her in ways years of therapy couldn’t, she was missing steps, she was sure of it. By the end of the challenge, when she had her meringue plated up and decorated with her violet messes, she must have read the sheet eight, nine, ten times. 

Still, she wasn’t actually the biggest disaster of this technical. That one had to go to Donna, who’s french meringue stood solid until Paul put his fork in a structurally inferior piece and the whole thing deflated. 

 

The Doctor loved her cheesecakes perhaps even more than she did, as it turned out. 

“Aw, mate, I love ice cream!” She’d exclaimed during their break. “They looked amazing, too, like, how did you find time to make a raspberry jam for the ripple alongside making the mint syrup?” Yaz just smiled bashfully, the Doctor’s enthusiasm embarrassing her in the best of ways. 

“Neither are particularly difficult, as long as you get them done first.” She pointed out, offering the Doctor her fork. Somehow, the woman had made three different baked cheesecakes to near enough perfection, and simultaneously had forgotten her lunch. 

“That’s what I have difficulty with.” She admitted, tucking a sliver of blonde hair behind her ear. “Never was much good with organising.” She took the fork and nabbed a bite of the leftover pasta Yaz’s mum had packed for her. “This is amazing, by the way.” 

“Thanks.” They sat in silence for a moment, Yaz desperately trying to think of something to say, wanting to keep the Doctor interested enough in her to stay. “So...what’s home like for you?”    
“I’m from Huddersfield originally.” The Doctor said, swinging her legs against the wall they both sat on. Yaz liked this wall. It was easy to get a quiet moment over here. “But I’ve done so much travelling that I don’t really think of it as home anymore.”    
“Huddersfield, no way. I’m from Sheffield! I should have picked up on your accent that you’re a Yorkshire lass!” She said, then laughed at her own foolishness. “Small world.”

“Oh, no, it really isn't!” The Doctor exclaimed with a grin. “The world is huge! One hundred and ninety five countries, spread over six continents, nearly eight billion people. It’s fantastic!” Yaz grinned, putting another forkful of pasta into her  mouth, content to let the Doctor ramble on about the wonders across the planet. 


	3. Sugar(free) pie, honey bunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz is getting a little stressed over her cake, but a surprise visit might help take her mind off it.

She’d never baked a cake with no sugar before this week. The concept terrified her, more so than any other week so far. Though it wasn’t the most original, or push-the-boat-out idea she’d had thus far, she decided the best thing for her to do would be a no-sugar chocolate cake. Baking a chocolate cake without using any sugar would, she hoped, be enough to get her some bonus points.

Her home kitchen had been a wreck for the last two days. Measuring, tweaking, experimenting - she was more nervous for this than for the ice cream roll showstopper - at least that was something she’d made before, for a school friend who had a dairy allergy. Her cacao, avocado and raspberry cake kept ending up too runny, too sticky, too dry. She had half a dozen cakes dotted around her kitchen counters, and one more in the oven, when her doorbell rang.

“Coming!” She called out, darting over to the door and opening it to find the Doctor, holding out a plastic container, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Hi, sorry to call unannounced, but I’d just finished my sugar free cake, had some mix left and decided to turn them into muffins. But it turns out that at 3am, I read ‘double this mix for a full size cake’ reads a lot like ‘quadruple this mix’, and now I’ve got fifty odd muffins clogging up my flat. So I’m going around offering them to my friends. Or I would,” She added, face frowning. “If I knew where any of them lived. And then I remembered I had your address, and would you mind if I came in? Only it’s raining outside and I think I stepped in a puddle and now my sock’s all soggy.” Yaz stood, staring for a moment, unable to quite believe that this bizarre woman was really standing outside her flat, until the timer on her oven went off. She jolted, and opened the door with a smile.

“Of course you can come in!” She beamed. “Sorry, won’t be a tick, I’ve got something in the oven.” She rushed back to the kitchen, and pulled out the cake. It seemed to be cooked through, but had a large crack down its centre. Still too dry, but getting better.

“Ooh, what you making?” The Doctor asked from the doorway. “Wait, don’t answer that; it’s for the weekend, isn’t it?” Yaz nodded.

“Sorry.” She added. She knew the rules - she wasn’t allowed to discuss bakes before they were filmed. The Doctor shrugged with a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. If it helps, I won’t be baking these,” She held up the bag of muffins. “On Saturday, so feel free to give ‘em a go!” Yaz’s eyes widened as she turned away to click the kettle on. Baking for pleasure? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a luxury.

“Do you want a drink?” She asked over her shoulder.

“Yes please! Tea, milk, two sugars, if that’s alright. Tried coffee once. Didn’t sleep for three days.” The brunette could well believe that - the woman seemed to have ceaseless energy without throwing caffeine into the mix. “Where should I leave the cakes?” Yaz turned back to her. She was leaned against a counter, her eyes wide, a small smile playing at her lips. She seemed so...young, despite being almost ten years her senior. It warmed her heart.

“Oh, just put them anywhere. As you can see, I’m a bit of a mess at the moment, sorry.” The Doctor shrugged, and put the bag on the table in the middle of the room. “Right, come on you.” Yaz said, striding past the Doctor and towards her bedroom.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes.” She heard the Doctor snort behind her, and flushed. Too far, Yasmin Khan, too far.

“Remarkably forward of you, Miss Khan.” The Doctor said, and Yaz could practically hear the smirk in her voice. Her mouth felt dry. She swallowed, then replied.

“Of the wet clothes, smart ass. I’ve got something you can wear.” A light punch on her arm, and a chuckle came from behind her.

“I know what you meant, silly. Although, whatever it is, it's going to be too short for me.” The Doctor followed her into the room, and pretended not to be shivering while Yaz pulled out some of her second hand pajamas. They’d belonged to her sister, so should fit the Doctor reasonably well.

“Try these on. Shower’s just down the hall, first door on the left. I’ll get these in the tumble dryer for you.”

“Thanks Yaz, you’re a good mate.”

She nodded as the Doctor left, fighting the urge to call after her, to say...anything. Honestly, it was amazing how she found herself in these kinds of situations. A pretty woman in her flat, and she’s got terrible baking all over the place. Instead of throwing herself on her bed and breaking down from the exhaustion she felt, like she really really wanted to, she busied herself trying to tidy up a bit, popped a few biscuits on a plate, and decided to try and find something to to watch. It would be better than trying to talk to the Doctor, at any rate. There was no way she’d be able to hold a conversation with that woman without saying something weird, and then the blonde wouldn't want to be her friend anymore, and the weekend would get weird, and she'd probably be too stressed about her own awkwardness to actually bake properly, and it would be her turn to leave, and she'd have let her Nani down. A call from the doorway broke her mental spiral, jolting as she turned around.

“Sorry, I was just wondering if I could borrow your hairbrush? If I'm not careful, I end up with a rats nest.” The Doctor laughed, gesturing to her damp hair. Damp. Hair. As she opened her mouth to reply, she realised that the Doctor had just got out the shower...and was currently parading round her house in a towel. Her brain short circuited.

“I...urrh…” She registered the Doctor smirking at her, one eyebrow raised, and flushed. She shook her head slightly, then replied, her mouth dry. “Yeah, ‘course you can.” She swore the Doctor winked at her before turning back towards the bathroom and, throwing herself back against her sofa, Yaz sighed. That woman was going to be the death of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to get this chapter out, because it's one of my favourites, then when I got round to posting it...I realised it wasn't finished!   
> Hope you guys enjoyed it, and have a fantastic festive season, if that's the kind of thing you do!

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely written to see if I could, and I did, and now I kinda wanna write more. Set during the Mel, Sue and Mary Berry era of bake off becuase that's what I'm most familiar with.


End file.
